


Westerosi One-Shot #2: Five Kings and Four Weddings

by arianrhod1



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, F/M, Gen, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:40:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28666377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arianrhod1/pseuds/arianrhod1
Summary: Almost two decades after she wed King Bran to keep the peace, Margaery Tyrell still struggles to be happy in King's Landing.
Relationships: Bran Stark/Margaery Tyrell, Myrcella Baratheon/Trystane Martell
Kudos: 8





	Westerosi One-Shot #2: Five Kings and Four Weddings

**Author's Note:**

> This is part two in a group of post canon one-shots I'm doing. I kind of combined show and book canons, and arbitrarily decided that Loras, Margaery, Trystane, and Myrcella survived (see the published books!). I probably won't go anywhere with this, I just think it's fun to think about how things would have shaken out after the War of Five Kings in an alternate universe.

“Alys, darling, you’ve got powdered sugar on your nose.” Margaery brought her hand up to her own nose, and her daughter copied her, blushing as she wiped it off.

Myrcella laughed aloud, the sound echoing around the stone-paved gardens. “Worry not, Alys - I always had some food on my nose when I was your age.” She took another lemon cake and bit it daintily, showing Alys.

Margaery smiled at Myrcella, remembering those easy days of her youth, before the War of Five Kings. Even once the war had begun, there had been another girl in King’s Landing who liked lemon cakes…

“It’s quite lovely today,” remarked Trystane Martell, Myrcella’s husband and Prince of Dorne. “The Citadel must be correct; winter is ending.”

“It’s cooler in King’s Landing than Dorne, but it doesn’t freeze here often even in winter,” said Margaery. “And the winters have warmed since the Long Night ended.” _Not that I would know, I spent the last half of that winter in Cersei’s dungeon._

Trystane nodded. “Bless that Arya Stark.”

Margaery pursed her lips. Myrcella caught her eye, and the look on the princess’s face told Margaery she understood. No one had escaped wartime unscathed, least of all Myrcella Baratheon and Margaery Tyrell. 

Myrcella Martell and Margaery Stark, as they were now known. 

“Mother?” Margaery looked up to see her eldest son Robb standing at her side. 

“Prince Robb!” Myrcella smiled at the red-haired youth. “You look older each time I see you! You must be sixteen now?”

The crown prince of Westeros smiled gracefully at Myrcella. “Aye, m’lady. Sixteen last month.”

Myrcella raised her eyebrows and looked at Margaery. “How time sprints in peacetime!”

Margaery forced herself to smile back. _How time drags._

“Mother, Father wishes to see you,” said Robb. 

“A royal summons!” laughed Trystane. “Your grace, why don’t you stay with us and your sister?”

Robb looked to Margaery, and she nodded at him. “Why don’t you tell Prince Trystane about the tourney we held for your name day?” she prompted. 

Margaery could feel Loras behind her as she walked through the gardens to the New Keep. He still wore the white cloak of his youth, but the war had scarred him as well, quite literally. His hair had gone white, and beneath the shining white cloak and armor, burn scars covered his chest and arms, reminders of the deadly siege of Dragonstone. 

Margaery felt anger swell in her chest when she thought about Dragonstone. Cersei Lannister had sent him there, knowing his grief and anger, knowing he would act irrationally. She was right: it had cost him his looks and nearly his life. Thank the Seven for the Redwynes, who had told Cersei he died while taking him secretly to Highgarden to heal. Margaery shivered: those had been the darkest days for her. Left forgotten in Cersei’s dungeon, frightened and thinking she was truly alone in the world. The day the Red Keep fell, Loras was the one to free her. 

“Do you know me, sister?” he had asked through the barred door. “Even now, do you know me?”

Of course she had known him. Since then, neither had left the other for longer than a night. It was Loras too who had broken the bad news to Margaery, that the council of Bran the Broken had decided on her to wed the king. How she had raged at him that night. “I have been Queen three times!” she shrieked, her perfect facade down for once. “I have wed Renly and both of his nephews, and I am done being Queen! I will live and die in Highgarden, and I will not be brought to King’s Landing ever again for so long as I live!”

Not a fortnight later, she and Loras had left Highgarden for King’s Landing, and Margaery Tyrell was Queen for a fourth time. It made sense, she could not deny: with the North and Dorne independent, and that pirate queen ruling the Iron Islands, a Tyrell alliance was safest for King Bran. It was not the first time Margaery had been wed for the promise of Highgarden gold, bread, and wine. Her fourth marriage had lasted the longest and been the most peaceful. Though she could not say that Brandon Stark was her favorite of her four husbands (or perhaps even her second favorite), he was neither cruel nor demanding and she had borne him three children. Robb, now sixteen, Olenna, twelve, and little Alys, only ten. 

“Your grace.” Loras’s voice cut through her memories. “We’ve arrived.”

She blinked and looked around. They were right outside the door to her husband’s private study. “As we have. Thank you, Ser.”

He bowed and opened the door for her, staying outside. Her husband sat in his wheeled chair behind a large desk, pouring over a book of maps. 

“Your grace,” she said plainly, waiting for him to look up. 

He did. “My queen.”

“You wanted me?”

Bran nodded. “I did. Do you care to sit?”

She sat, smoothing her skirts below her. 

“I’ve noticed that you’ve been much happier these past weeks, with Princess Myrcella and Prince Trystane visiting from Sunspear.”

Margaery looked down, at her folded hands. “I - Myrcella and I were friends in my youth. It reminds me of easier times.” _Before I wed her uncle and then both of her brothers._

“Are times not easy now?”

She nodded. “They are, but easier still before the war.”

Bran’s eyes crinkled in a rare smile. “I wouldn’t know. I was eight.”

Margaery couldn’t help but laugh. She savored the moment. Far too often when her husband smiled it seemed to be at her expense, not his.

“I don’t mean to accuse you of unhappiness,” continued Bran. “I know that we both understand what certain things must be done, regardless of whether they bring joy. But we should still find joy where we can, should we not?”

Margaery smiled softly, thinking of the powdered sugar on Alys’s nose. “Of course.”

“Good.” Bran leaned forward onto the desk. “You and Sansa were friends here, once.”

Margaery exhaled slowly. When she had known Sansa, she had been so deeply immersed in the game of King’s Landing, trying so hard to stay afloat that Sansa had been more a pawn than a friend. Still… “We enjoyed each other’s company. I tried to make her as happy as I could.”

“She spoke of you often,” said Bran. “She said that you were kind to her when no one else was.”

“I was kind to her when it fit my grandmother’s agenda,” admitted Margaery. “I was not as true a friend as I should have been.”

“You were the truest friend she had for years,” countered Bran. “I don’t know if she would have survived without you, Loras, and your grandmother.”

Margaery almost laughed, remembering the silly fascination Sansa had with Loras. “I’m… glad she feels I helped her.”

Bran nodded. “She does. She’s taking a state visit to Highgarden as soon as the spring comes, coming through King’s Landing with Lyanna. I thought you and Loras might like to go with her to Highgarden.”

Margaery felt a smile forming on her mouth. She hadn’t been to Highgarden since early winter. And to see Sansa Stark again… “The children?”

Bran raised his eyebrows. “You could take them. Or they could stay, whichever you prefer.” The earnest tone of his voice warmed her heart. He didn’t understand her, but no one understood Margaery Tyrell. He was trying, just as he had tried the entire time. Margaery remembered the first few years of their marriage, right after Robb was born, Bran had Highgarden music and food all over King’s Landing, trying whatever he could to make her happy and comfortable. 

She stood and leaned across the desk to kiss him on the cheek. When she leaned away, he looked as surprised as she felt. “Thank you,” she said. “I know I haven’t always been… warm.”

Bran nodded. “I don’t know how anyone could have expected you to be,” he said evenly. “I’m your fourth husband, and that’s the least of it.”

Margaery laughed aloud. She couldn’t help herself. 

A thought occurred to her. “The Martells are having tea in the garden, with Alys and Robb,” she told him. “I will go back to join them. Would you come as well?”

Bran tilted his head to one side, and for a moment she thought he would refuse her. But he broke into a smile and nodded. “I would like nothing better.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Let me know if there are any other characters you'd like to see in this time frame :)


End file.
